


A Place to Turn in an Emergency

by J (j_writes)



Category: Zombieland (2009)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Did you just write down 'shoot first, ask questions later'?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place to Turn in an Emergency

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quarterturn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quarterturn/gifts).



> Five times killing was synonymous with caring, and one time it wasn't - a Treat for Quarterturn, who wanted more found family stories. Happy Yule!
> 
> (contains canon-typical violence and discussion of suicidal intentions in the face of the zombie apocalypse - avoid if that's not for you.)

They burned Krista's boyfriend by the edge of the highway, before that sort of thing was common.

The road was still thick with cars – people fleeing by any means they had left, thinking that maybe if they made it someplace else, everything would be all right – and they stood there watching them pass, Krista waving at some of them like a statement, like she wanted to be the thing that made it sink in that nothing was ever going to be all right again.

"We should get out of here," she said eventually, looking up at Krista, who made a face down at her.

"Not you, too," she said.

She watched Harley's fingers crisping, and wondered if that had been his real name, if he'd be in one of those cars right now if he could, those fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, booking it towards whatever he'd thought was worth leaving behind before.

"I know what I want to do," she said, raising a hand to wave at a family of two parents, two kids, and a dog and wondering which of them would be the first to turn.

Krista looked at her. "Yeah?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"And what's that?"

Harley crackled and popped, and she turned to take her sister's hand, steering her away from the burning corpse. "I think," she said thoughtfully as they walked toward the road, "I'd like to die at Pacific Playland."  
______________

"You're not from Kansas, are you?" Columbus asked like he thought he had them all figured out. "Or Arkansas either, I bet."

Krista had become Wichita on the road because she liked the idea that they weren't in Kansas anymore, that no one was. That Kansas no longer existed, if it ever had. She'd become Little Rock because when she suggested it, Wichita had smiled in a way she hadn't since everything went to shit. 

She didn't tell him that. "There's only one person in this car dumb enough to let on who he is and where he's going," she said instead. She met Tallahassee's eyes across the barrel of her gun. "Unless you expect me to believe you're actually going to Florida," she added, and he just smiled at her mysteriously.

"So what did you do?" Columbus continued, nodding at her arm. "Bite yourself?" He turned to look at Wichita. "Did _you_ bite her?"

Wichita snapped her teeth at him in response, and winked at Little Rock in the mirror. His fingers twitched for his gun, and Little Rock cocked hers, making Tallahassee flinch.

"That's not funny," Columbus said. 

"It's a little funny," Wichita replied.

"If your little sidekick didn't have her gun on my buddy back there, your head would be splattered on the window," he pointed out. "I don't call that funny."

"Buddy?" Tallahassee echoed.

"I don't know, I think it's hilarious," said Little Rock. "How'd you live this long with those nerves, anyway?"

"I have this list – " he began, but she cut him off.

"Never mind, I don't care. If you can't tell the difference between a real zombie and a joke, you're not going to last long enough to matter."

"If you take the _time_ to tell the difference between a real zombie and a joke, I don't know how you've made it this far," Columbus shot back. 

"You didn't shoot me," Little Rock pointed out.

He paused at that, then nodded. "You're right," he agreed. "I didn't." He pulled a notebook out of his pocket and scribbled something down. "Next time, I will."

"Did you just write down 'shoot first, ask questions later'?" she asked.

"No?" Columbus offered unconvincingly.

"Hey, that's sweet and all, everybody's going to kill everybody, it'll be great, but can we maybe take a moment to notice that _I'm_ the one with a gun pointed at me right now?" Tallahassee suggested.

"No one cares," Wichita said.

"He cares," Tallahassee objected, nodding at Columbus. "He called me his buddy."

"I don't care _that_ much," Columbus replied. 

"Thanks," Tallahassee replied dryly. He glared at Little Rock, who smiled sweetly.

"I could follow your _buddy's_ advice, if you prefer," she offered.

"Pint-sized psychopath," he muttered, half to himself, and turned his glare on the window instead.

Little Rock met Wichita's eyes in the mirror and they smiled at each other as the car lapsed into silence, and the miles rolled by in a vaguely westward direction.  
______________

"We ran that bite racket twice before we came across you guys," Little Rock said. It was late at night and the radio was playing softly as Wichita and Columbus slept in the backseat. Tallahassee didn't quite look over at her, but he raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah?" he asked. "How'd that go for you?"

She shrugged. "The first car crapped out on us after a few towns. The second one did a little better, but we ended up busting up a few zombies with it, and it started making this really awful crunching noise when we turned left." She looked at him in the dim light from the dash. "You were the first person I thought might actually go through with it."

He turned to look at her for longer than he should have while he was driving. "I would have," he said flatly, and she almost believed him.

"Would you now?" she asked. "If I got bit?"

"In a second," he replied without hesitation, and it was oddly reassuring that she could tell he meant it. He turned to eye her again, until she nodded pointedly at the road. "How about you?" he asked. "You ready to take me out if you have to? Or him?" He didn't ask about Wichita, which was probably for the best, since she wasn't quite sure of the answer.

"Try me," she said, and the smile he gave the empty road ahead of them was satisfied and almost proud.

"I'd rather not," he said, "if it's all the same to you. But between you and me, I think you might be the best shot between the three of you, so make it quick."

She nodded in solemn agreement, then turned up the radio to drown out the imaginary sound of him crackling on the side of the road like Wichita's boyfriend had. He reached out to ruffle her hair lightly, and started singing along to a song she didn't recognize, rolling the windows down and letting the desert air in to whip her hair around her face as they drove.  
______________

"So, you and your sister."

"How about we watch the movie?" she suggested, waving the bowl of popcorn at Columbus to distract him, and to keep herself from beating him over the head with it.

"How many zombies have you killed? You know, cumulatively."

"I don't know. We've been a little too busy making sure they're dead to sit around and count them." She eyed him. "Why, do you?"

"No," he replied too quickly.

"It's not actually a competition," she pointed out. "Alive is alive."

"It's just, I thought I was doing pretty well, you know? I was thinking maybe I had killed the most zombies out of anyone left alive. That's the kind of thing a man could be proud of, don't you think?"

"A legacy to pass down to your children," she agreed dryly.

"Something like that, yeah. If that sort of thing mattered anymore." He sighed. "But then Tallahassee came along."

"Yeah, no one's ever going to beat him on sheer numbers," she agreed. "You could try to upstage him in style, but honestly, I don't think you can do that either. The guy never uses the same weapon twice."

"I know, it's incredible." 

"Guess you're going to have to find a different legacy," she said. "Maybe you'll be the last guy left standing. That'd be something, right?"

His face twitched into a brief frown. "I thought I might like that, for a while. I don't know anymore, though."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Would you _miss_ us?" she asked mockingly, but he seemed to consider the question before answering.

"Maybe, a little. I mostly just wouldn't want to have to kill any of you, though." He darted a look at her. "I mean, I _would_ ," he said in a tone that sounded almost like he was trying to be reassuring, with a slight edge of defensiveness. "But I wouldn't want to."

"Aw, thanks, that's sweet," she said in the same mocking tone, but a while later when he bolted up and put a neat hole in Bill Murray's chest, she couldn't help but think that they could have done worse on the teammate front.

She was almost going to miss him too. Not quite, but almost.  
______________

"Best two out of three?" she offered, but Tallahassee shook his head against the felt of the pool table.

"You made a valiant effort, but now that I've taught you to aim that gun of yours, I'd rather not piss you off by beating you twice in a row." 

They were sprawled on top of the table, most of her balls still rolling around in the space between them, and she sighed, reaching for the bottle at his side and taking a long sip from it. She winced as the liquor burned all the way down. 

"You're just afraid to get beat by a girl," she said.

"True," he agreed amiably, and retrieved the bottle from her.

"Tell you what," she said, rolling onto her side to look at him. "I challenge you to a rematch when we reach Pacific Playland. Any arcade game you want. You pick one, and I'll kick your ass at it."

He tilted his head to meet her eyes. "Look, kid," he said, "I can respect this suicide pact thing you've got going on, but don't make me pretend like I think it's anything else."

She blinked. It was the first time anyone had said the words aloud since they'd burned Harley. "You're not going to try to talk us out of it?" she asked.

He looked at her steadily. "Would it do any good?"

"No."

"Then, no. I'm not. It's dumb, I'll give you that. But dumber than living with all this?" He waved the bottle, indicating the house, the zombies, Bill Murray, and whatever her sister and Columbus were doing. "Who am I to say?"

She nodded, looking up at the designs on the ceiling. "Thanks," she finally said quietly, and he reached over to pat her hand a couple of times before lifting the bottle to his lips again. 

"Hey," he said eventually, and she sat up, expecting him to continue. Instead, he gave her a little smile and said, "You want to build a blanket fort?"

She couldn't help laughing. "Yeah," she replied. "I really do."  
______________

The metal of the gun was cold against her temple as the pirate ship swung, the lights swirling around them. Little Rock closed her eyes to see the lights against her eyelids instead of the tears making their way down Wichita's face. They had both been laughing just seconds before, and Little Rock still was, a little, at the absurdity of it all, but Wichita's smile had faded too soon, while Little Rock was still looking.

There was a prolonged second, suspended in the air, just before the ship dropped, when Little Rock thought, _this is it,_ but then Wichita was hissing, "Oh, _shit_ ," next to her, and the moment was shattered, Little Rock's eyes flying open to see the sea of zombies coming at them.

They exchanged a look. "Oh _fuck_ no," Little Rock said, "not like this." Wichita's gun dropped immediately, and Little Rock shook her head. "You weren't going to go through with it, were you?"

Wichita looked down at the gun in her hands, then at the zombies. "I…don't know," she admitted. "Now that we're here…with everything…"

Little Rock made a face. "Ugh, you decided to live because of a _boy_? Because of _that_ boy?"

Wichita looked startled. "No. What?" Realization flickered across her face, and she shook her head emphatically. "Columbus? No, you dumbass." She pulled Little Rock against her side, ruffling her hair. "Because of _you_. Everything we've done since we left home, everything we still _could_ do…"

Little Rock looked dubiously at the zombies swarming around the pirate ship. "Could have done," she pointed out. "Before we lit up the zombie buffet. This wasn't the best idea I've ever had, was it?"

"Not really, no."

Little Rock drew her own gun. "You know, I told Tallahassee I'd kick his ass at any game here he wanted. What do you think his record is on dead zombies?"

"Probably a lot," Wichita said, "but I bet you could take him."

"Let's find out." Little Rock stood as the ride slowed, hanging on to the handrail with one hand and aiming with the other. "You ready?"

"Sure, yeah, it'll be a blast," Wichita replied, but the grin on her face indicated that the words might not have been as sarcastic as she intended. She reached out to grab Little Rock's hand as the ride ground to a halt, and then they were booking it out of the turnstile and onto the midway, an ocean of zombies at their heels, the lights of Pacific Playland still flickering around them, lighting up the night like a beacon.


End file.
